The Frame of Thought: Fast Food Fiction

As the clock hits the gears to the transition of another minute, the boy in blue draws his dreams in a yellow pad canvass. In the middle of a heated discussion, absolute zero in reverse, the pen wanders around the tainted green shrubs and escapes through the sea of clouds making unmarked footprints along the way. Despite the reverberating sound of the mentor's plead, the boy in blue continues to paint the image corners as stepped on by the darkness of ink. His eyes absorbing the memories for which the mind bleeds synonymous to waterfalls. Streams of improvised creations decisively immerses each entity to an alternate reality. Every emotion, as depicted in the canvass, has its own world.

Joy. The mirror sheds light to the face of the darling boy enabling the stretching of his face muscles, forcing him to smile. As one enters the reverse image, grass teemed with all sorts of green splashed in human bathing glory can be visualized upon realization. Hills are streaming, flowing like rhymes in poems, lines in sonnets. Winds ever abundant, regulated, in as much dense as the sleeping brown soil in multiple worldly terrains. Animals planted as families feeding with self -appearing food in the mouth of the mother. Men and women in white clothes suddenly appear in the distance walking slowly towards him. Smiling. 

Upon being circled, smiles are showered upon him vertically with all the granted appreciations perforated in the mind. A thorn in the heart is disattached for the brightness of the sepia-toned (depicting the past) faces melted the bone-chilling, motion-stopping predicaments. They took his hands one-by-one shaking with much gusto as though your appearance is the light. 

Multiple languages of "hello" speak in melodic, chanting voices blending in perfect pitch and harmony. The music reached the peak of the excitement mountain massaging your currenltly being churned mind. Everyone invites you home. It is as though there is no time, so you went to their homes, their minds every filled 5 minutes of visitation. It looks as though there is no end yet it seems to tickle the boy's taste for knowing, longingness. 

Riiiiiiiingggggg!!

The boy suddenly wakes up with soring eyes finding himself wetting his sun-painted canvass with his tongue water. Everyone deserted the area of academic battle, the classroom. He wonders if someone else made attempts to awaken his senses (other than his dreams) before they leave the vicinity. Covered by liquid human mouth waste, the canvass materializes in full picture. He now sees the greatest masterpiece that he has ever created. 

His own smiling portrait. 

As though for longing, yet never coming back, to the world made by his own. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The surprise comes next...

    

Self Speak: A Blog about a Blog

Has anyone thought of making a blog about a blog? 

Of course, there have been reviews about movies, fantasies, novels, novelties, music, musicals, CDs, commentaries, etc. But, in the sheer criticizing nature of our humanity, be it disagreeable (see i'm doing it), fallacious, malicious, extravagant, horrifying, experiential, uneducated or simply thoughless, we spatter, spill, eject or release words agreeing or refuting another's thoughts within the highly congested social network. 

It might suggest that we are always in an argumentative mood whenever we see a message in print shooting bulleted tomatoes at our favorite films tortured by his words of dissatisfaction. 

Or, his thoughts about Neverland is indeed a non-existence since he believes wholeheartedly that fantasy is never a reality. 

Or, he tries (at least) to make you believe that Santa Claus will indeed come to town this Christmas even though his fake beard (very obvious) has never been washed in twenty years in his profile photo. 

Some even wage fights in an online game somewhere (over the rainbow) in this internet universe. They haven't even thought publicizing their match-ups through different social network site advertisements (with all the interactive mouse click glory). I'm sure if they did on YouTube, they would rouse even the sleepy of its subscribers to witness the brutal exchange of home videos, white-wall-backgrounded self video speeches, and copy-and-paste video creations with the topic revolving around the "Best Kids Show in the World: Sesame Street vs. Batibot vs. The Ellen DeGeneres Show".

Good thing, the most structured of it all, which had started from a blog, was the one made by the always dancing John Chu (director of Step UP series) to actually make a dance-off between the Obamanators and the McCainiacs. The winner would place "The White House" name at stake changing it to "The Hood". You guess what happened...

The Internet made it even more convenient for the keyboard tapping, "what does this button do" mentality obsessed society to paste instant replies to go on further with the highly "symbolic" conversations. They would make something like this :)...a dancing banana... :(... :P...lol...hahahaha...halabsyu...09213456789, etcetera. Better try doing the Morse Code to elevate the rungs of your social network commenting career ladder. If you could do that, you are a rocket scientist.

 

Some even claim blogs as their own. It's like being a Grade 6 child with this little Gundam toy made painstakingly in a week by his Grade 2 brother. Grade 6 claimed he made it. Won the school championship. End of story. Respect the "copy"right, or the "being copied" rights.           

Some people might say that we have been given this degree of freedom to express ourselves to the point of snatching photos here and there like picking apples from Egypt (if there indeed are apples there). Cutting pictures to the max and pasting them in animation websites, photo simulation programs and the most dreaded (lightning) Photoshop (erasing large zits, loading 12%, 3 hours left). Many place stencilled messages right on the face signifying supreme hate and fascination. 

Internet = large spray paint arena = canvass = scrapbook = peeping toms = catwalk = the Fibonacci number

Seriously speaking , blogs are portals for everyone to enter. Be careful of what you place inside (especially your not-so-good-moment pictures and NBI records) in every social networking site. It is through every account that people believe you sputter your identity. It is who you are in the different places in the world. Believe me. You have a virtual person inside this digital, articificial universe. Converse properly. 

Don't speak when your mouth is full. 

-a public service message from the best social networking site in the history, click here to find out- 

  

  

On Leadership: A Discussion using the Mother Tongue

Ang pinuno ay pinuno upang pumuno.

Ang katagang ito ay sumasalamin sa samu’t saring diskurso na napaiiral tuwing binibigyan ng kahulugan ang mga alituntunin at tungkulin ng pagiging isang lider (sa diretsahang salin). Kung bubusisiin ang padron na sinusundan ng mga namumuno sa lipunan, ito ay maoobserbahang napakalaki nang iniaaambag ng lipunan, o sa madaling salita, ng mga pinamumunuan sa pagsalin ng sipat at sulat sa makabuluhang gawain. Nagsisilbing langis lamang na nagpapagalaw sa barko ng pamumuno ang mga makabagbag-damdaming kataga at nakapupukaw na mga parirala. ‘Ika nga sa isang pamosong awitin, ang pamumuno ay “more than words” o higit pa sa salita. Kailangan ng aksyon sa pagpupuno ng kawalan, hindi lang sa ekonomikal na paraan (na puwedeng matugunan sa tamang polisiya), kung hindi sa paraang espiritwal na ang paghatid ay mula sa puso (para sa namumuno) na tiyak na sasagad sa buto (para sa mga pinaglilingkuran).

 

Ngunit, upang tuluyang maging instrumento ng pagbabago ang isa sa kanyang lipunan, kailangan din ng sapat na kaalaman, dahil ang pamumuno ay hindi lamang nagiging obligasyon sa sarili, isa rin itong sining na dapat ipinayayabong at ipinalalawig sa kapwa mamamayan. Mahirap humati, humimay ng teorya, sitwasyon o prinsipyo kung ang isipang patalim ay purol sa bulag na katotohanan. Ang hindi pagsasatama ng nakagisnang mga pagsasaakala o nosyon ay kakalawangin na tulad ng isang poste ng gusali na makadudulot nang pagkabagsak ng ipinundar na tiwala’t karanasan. Ang pagpuno sa isip ang siyang kapangyarihan at susi sa pagpupuno sa lipunan sa pamumuno.

 

Marahil, kung pagninilayan ang pinakaunang kataga ukol sa pagpupuno, mapaiisip ang ilan sa mala-Atlas na pagdala ng kamunduang problema sa proseso ng pagpupuno. May anggulo ng katotohanan ang pagdala kung ika’y magpadadala sa agos ng panahon na walang pinatutunguhang pagbabago batid ng kawalan ng pag-asa o pagtiwala sa lipunan. Ngunit, kung titignan ng pinuno ang maiaambag sa mamamayan, nariyan nga talaga siya upang pumuno ng pagsasaalang-alang sa kalagayan sa pagtungo sa kagustuhang pagbabago. Ang kagustuhan na manggagaling sa mismong sambayanan batid ng hikayat ng indibidwal na kaalaman at pagpapapuno sa isa’t isang nagpapapuno.      

 

Sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas, ang kaalaman ay ang nagiging sandata ng bawat isa sa pagpupuno ng paninindigang ipinanganak ng inihandog na kalayaan sa napakaraming aspeto mula sa kauna-unahang hakbang sa naturang intitusyon. Hindi maiiwasang sumapi rito, sumali roon  sa paghahanap ng sarili. Lider ang bawat isa sa tao na kaharap niya sa salamin. Sa lakas ng kasalukuyang ipinaiiral na tradisyunal na pananaw na batid ng mga nakagawiang diskurso sa Unibersidad, hindi mapipigilang bato-balaning dumikit ang paninindigan sa teorya, o kung minsan, “crash culture” na inihahatid ng mga nasabing maitutukoy na liderato. Sa halip na tumingin sa sarili at pansinin ang mga pagkakapare-parehong pananaw, sa kaibahan pa rin nakakahon ang karamihan. Kaya puwede ring sabihin na ang kalayaan pala mismo ang naglagay ng rehas sa braso. Kung ibabalik sa pamumuno, kailangang malaman ang paktor ng pagsasabuklod ng bawat isang sekta o organisasyon, opisina o kolehiyo. Magiging posible ito sa pagsasapuno sa pag-unlad ng kaalaman ng bawat isa sa isa’t isa. Himayin ang mga pagkakaiba. Gumawa ng paraan sa pagpuno sa mga alinlangan. Tiyak na ang unibersidad ay isang nagkakaisa.

Kaya, kung titignan ang sarili, lahat tayo ay namumuno kahit hindi lingid sa karamihan. May sining din ang pamumuno sa taong kaharap mo sa salamin. Sa dinami-dami ng mga babasahin ukol sa pagiging isang “life leader”, hindi agarang magaganap ang metamorphosis sa lahat ng aspeto (marahil, sa espritwal may pokus). Kailangan ng mataas na antas ng pagmamahal sa pamumuno’t paglilingkod upang ang basong puno ay umapaw, sa oras ng mismong pamumuno. 

Poetic License

A poem is like a song that serves as a panacea to a wounded soul, a wishsong for the late dreamers, a past for the sailors staring at the monotonous amplitudes of the sea.

Allow me to breath through these passages using our local language (a convolution of the whole)

Limot/Laya

Isang libong nilibot na kurot

batid ng pighati't pagkalimot.

Nakamit, dumamit sa sundalong

namihasa't nagngalit sa hindi

pagkamit.

Isang libong nilibot na kurot

batid ng pighati't pagkalimot.

Pinilas ag kasunduang tugon

hatid ng pag-angat, posisyon

Nakasagi, tumama sa batang

Nagahasa't binalahura bago

ang buhay kinamit.

Isang libong nilibot na kurot

batid ng paghati't pagkalumot.

Himala sa New York Street

Binaybay ng barkong SUV

ang kahabaan ng dagat semento

Masigasig na hinawakan ng pagkamulat

sa mg kadalasang sulyap, iglap

ang mga uwak na tumatangis.

Ang dala'y ligayang matumal

magarbong, kagampang pighati

Bumabatingaw, nililindol

ang sikmurang kumakahol

Napuno ang blanketang kalawakan

mga salita't titik na pinakalatasan

ng kalapating parangal

na sa pagtagos ng puso'y batid.

Hindi naging hadlang

kabilaang businang unos,

sa pansamantalng pagdaong.

Minunihan, pinakalawalan

ang kalapating kalong.

Sinamantala ang paglipad,

pagkagawi kasama ng mga uwak.

Pagbalik, inaasahan ang pagkalisan

at pagkawala ng unos, isang dagta,

isang mensahe ng pagmamahal.

After the magician wields his wand, everything subsides. Silence breaks in.

Hush.

Burning the Midnight Oil

Sleep tight, little child.

Unearthing nostalgic tendencies, we yearn to keep our childhood intact by our personal desires and dependencies. We look far, even overboard, to express the whimsical thoughts that we have in the middle of the battle of complexities. In the case of most readers here, whether we like to admit it or not, complexities caused mainly by the personality-gaining, gear-turning, stomach-lurching, habitat-forming, habit-inducing tasks we do in school.

We yearn to be in touch with our inner selves since preoccupation is the name of the game in the hype-driven hustle-and-bustle of strained lives immersed in the academe. Seeking to be admired by the external, positive forces, we place our attention in scrolls of self-help information to gobble up the changes yearned as much as we want. Feeling helpless, we seek for other's approval if indeed a changed man was born upon devotedly following the parameters set by the self-help experts.

From effective clock management to fraternal leadership, truckloads of suggestions are dictated in such a way that the paradigm being set deliberately would be followed. A checklist will be made to be stared at like a hawk ensuring no rule will this soul of yours fall short of. Everything, with your expectations laid out, will be straight A's if done with perfection. You continue to conform like being controlled by a Barnum & Bailey puppeteer.

Burnout. To faint is the only outlet available, to get out of all this conformity. Yet, you wake up again devouring all these information. You walk, and you go up. Little you realize, your soul is going down.

As we grow up a notch in life, we set more expectations to our mortal selves. This enables us to conform to these thoughts and penetrate the natural process by yearning to transform as quick as possible. We burn our midnight's oil in a grand proportion, there's nothing left for ourselves. We act as though every opportunity is our obligation to seize. Acting somewhat insecure. Dependent on the opportunities as though this is the only to be reinforced.

To alleviate the rising tide of this pandemic of burning, one suggestion still remains to be effective:

Sit down. Pray. Meditate. Exercise your thoughts. For self-help is helping yourself to unlock the peak of your thoughts. There is more than in your mind than what you think. Think on thinking. Widen your thought horizons. Take deep breaths, Feel. Revive.

You will realize that there are more opportunities than the physical ones.

Pockets of minutes per day of such treatment shall unearth your full potential.

Indeed, upon taking the suggestion, you have sucked the marrow out of life.

Now, like your magnanimous mom would say, nature says:

Sleep tight, little child

Speaking about Time: IE Department Seminar

June 16, 2008, Tuesday, 4PM -As the chosen speaker to represent my organization, I was tasked to speak about time management using whatever devices in whatever means necessary. I thought maybe this wasn't the right topic for me since I have been somewhat tardy in some of my classes (no but's and if's). But, in my stash, so to speak, I have some accumulated insights to share with the rather confused freshmen. So, I said 'yes' and went for it even though there was prick of hesitation in my conscience.

The title of my presentation was "Beyond Chronos", referring to time management as something beyond the solid concept of time. When it was my turn to speak in the stage of the Engineering Theatre, I instantly felt comfortable since everyone seemed to look so interested to listen (or so i thought...kidding).

Well, to jumpstart my speech, I asked everyone first to do a breathing exercise (like what chorales do in their practices). When everyone's settled down, I started my 20-minute lecture aided by my Powerpoint Presentation.

"C.E.N.T.S...balance...timeless tips...multitasking...picture of tigers"

After it was done, I congratulated the freshmen for a job well done.

Hopefully, they have enjoyed as much as I've delivered it.

Wavelength: Radio Guesting in NU 107.5

June 2, 2008, Monday - Going to Ortigas riding an open bus alone was such a big hassle. Thinking that I was really late for my appointment with the producer of NU 107.5, I literally felt sick to my stomach in emotional agitation. It was 7:15 PM. One of the officers texted that my appointment would be at exactly 7 PM, and I'll be having a radio guesting for a new university segment at 9-11PM. Though I wasn't that prepared to say the categorically right words. I just said to myself, "Let's get it over with! Not everyone has this opportunity". So, facing the clean transparent glass door of the station office, I entered the threshhold and went inside absolute sound resonating paradise.

Upon entering, I saw a radio component barking on empty blue chairs. Oops, I didn't see Mr. Security Guard on the right side staring at me in suspicion (looking as though I'm there for self-destruction with all the sweat of stress and exhaustion pouring all over my body). Then, I heard someone murmuring the exact words heard on the radio.

Presence of ghost whisperers...

Certainly not. Right behind the glass pane, I saw the radio desk with the lady disc jockey playing all the hyperventilated, high octaned, almost no holds barred rock music. With a crystal clear voice, she seduced her listeners to rock-and-roll high and foot stomping mayhem.

Very contrasting to her operator-worthy manner of speaking.

I thought the producer was already in the vicinity. But, unfortunately, I have to wait for an additional hour. So, speaking about my conversation with Mico Halili, the producer of the station, he made me feel very assured and comfortable in dealing with some of our sponsorship demands. It went to show that he knew how to treat and converse with people well especially when there is a serious matter to be discussed. He was willing to give all out for station promotion.

How generous!

Anyway, at exactly 9 AM, the show had started. The title is U-ROCK, a show catered to university concerns and events, hosted by George Rocha and another female DJ. Luckily, I wasn' t the first one to be interviewed.

In the show, the first one was Ms. Tolentino from the UP Centennial Organizing Committee advertising the first-ever Oblation tableau-like formation. She said that 100 male models from different countries preferably UP alumni would pose like the Oblation (yes, I know what you are thinking...get the idea) in front of local and international media such as CNN and Reuters. It will happen in June 16. The DJs had so much fun looking at Ms.Tolentino's presentation in her laptop.

The second one was a female, Atenean Junior who has an onling fashion business. I forgot the exact name. All I knew was she was forging her way to the top.

Kudos.

The third one was a lady from a laser game store wherein painless team games synonymous to paintball can be played.

Zap.

The fourth one was a Bedan cheerdancer who had invited people to come to their performances in their school and had told about their group's rigorous practices.

Cheers.

Now, as I waited after a certain college rock song for my turn, I was holding tightly to my so-called script so that I would know whatever it was I would be saying. Upon stepping in front of the microphone, I knew it was my time.

10:30 PM. I glanced at my watch hoping that people would still be listening to me at this time.
Like in initial committee meetings and family reunions, I had unhesistatingly introduced myself. Then, thinking that I've had enough of introducing myself since the time of my conception, I thought of going directly to the discussion of the FOPC Freshmen Week activities. My mind was wandering aimlessly as I had long moments of explanation (and national airtime) of what specifically these activities were. I was just daydreaming of this in the past but, now, I was right there feeling right at home while being asked by random questions.

Not the forbidden ones, so to speak.

The DJs were surprised that our activities had been scattered within a four-month duration culminated by the Freshmen Week. From Capoeira to UP bands, descriptions and advertisements were made here and there. Also, I was given the chance to plug the FOPC party (PUMP UP @ 100) happenning in an immediate date. In the end, I had the opportunity to greet some of my folks (FOPC members, friends and DAD).

After me, the floor was given to a couple of Ateneans who were also promoting their incoming Orientation activities (ORSEM). By the way, I had talked with them before my time and they knew some of my batchmates there.

11:15 PM. Leaving the radio-soaked den, I eagerly went back home still hearing the resonance of my semi-stuttering voice in the radio.

Cellphone blinking (due to the silent mode option), people said it was all fine and good.

Well, after all, it was indeed good...



...night for me.